


The Odd Situation

by BrookeSutter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrookeSutter/pseuds/BrookeSutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wakes up in a whole different world--different time period--after falling asleep in Camp Jaha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this story is amazing!
> 
> Thanks for your time!

 

**May 20th, 2015  
** **6:25 AM**

The sound of metal squeaking caused her entire body to jolt, a firm shiver coursing through her skeletal system. If her senses were coherent, she could have sworn that she heard a shower halting. The sleepy flutter of her lids was interrupted by the widening of her cerulean eyes as she adapted to her surroundings, _Where the hell am I?_ No longer surrounded by the familiarity of her tent, Clarke felt uneasy, noticing four strong and sturdy walls, painted a bright lilac color that momentarily hypnotized her. Last night, she'd gone to bed after drinking way too much moonshine because her day had been hell--her bed was straw-based, not as soft as the one she was currently resting on. There had been a supplies shortage, one kid used way too many bullets, Kane was in a fucking grumbly ass mood and Bellamy mirrored it just because the two men seemed to be on the same menstrual cycle but now...now it seemed so distant.  _Bellamy--_  Damn, she had needed that drink but now she was under the impression Monty slipped one of the hallucinogenic herbs into their new batch by accident.  _This can't be real._

Her thoughts were starting to circle towards the obvious absence of the morning noise usually associated with camp but they were broken off by the sound of someone daintily clearing their throat. _Definitely a shower,_ she confirmed. "Listen...I don't normally--I'm not gay." Clarke raised her eyebrow in response to the statement. The scent of soap filled her room, taking over her senses because she hadn't smelt something so _clean_ in a long time. The woman, close to her age, stood at her doorway with soaking wet dark brown hair with a seemingly new towel wrapped around her tall, willowy body. By her implication, she didn't seem so "not gay" but who was Clarke to point out her obvious lapse? It took her a moment to process the speech she was receiving but after years of listening to rejected females cry, she recognized the pattern. Whatever happened in the tangled sheets that wrapped haphazardly around Clarke's legs, the woman was regretting it. If this had been her first experience in the morning-after department, Clarke would have offered her a warm blush but it wasn't her first time. The blonde was no slut, but she'd been with a couple grounder girls over the years...and she definitely remembered watching Miller struggle to come out of the metaphorical closet.

"Okay." Clarke replied dumbly after a moment because it wasn't her place to push. Curiosity got the better of her when she asked, "What's your name?" 

_Shit._

"Seriously? You talk me into trying this whole lesbian sex thing and you don't even remember my name?" She gaped at her and Clarke tried to figure out what had interest her in that particular female. There was nothing truly special about her appearance and honestly, she seemed more Bell--Clarke furrowed her brows as she thought of her co-leader. _Where the hell is he?_ Clarke wanted to shake her head, _Of course he's not going to be_ here. "My name is Sophia, feel free to forget it!" She grabbed her clothes off the wooden floor, quickly dressing and shooting Clarke the finger. She snorted in response because  _childish._  Why the hell was she so mad that Clarke was embracing her inner "this-means-nothing-to-me" personality. Sophia mumbled, "Never meeting another person in the bar. Ever." Shuffling out of Clarke's bedroom, the brunette cursed her one last time.

There was an incredibly loud slam as her guest left, causing her to release a sigh of relief. "Now, to figure out what the hell is going on..." She untangled the sheets from her body, her feet touching the cold wooden floor in the process. Carefully, she curled her toes as she applied pressure to her floor and padded lightly around the room. Due to her apartment on the Ark, she knew the basics of civilized living but everything was still so clean, so new. Her fingers played with the soft fabrics in her closet and her hair felt so light...so nice that she never wanted to be dirty again. 

A statistical impossibility in her reality. Clarke was always dirty.

Quickly, she dressed herself in whatever looked comfortable before she bounded through the apartment building.

Her living room was beautiful, boho-chic-esque styled as if she were artistic even when it came to her furniture. The dominant colors were turquoise and cream. She was proud of her choice, even if the whole damn thing was surreal. The apartment smelt of vanilla, something she vaguely recognized from a holiday dinner in her youth. There was a calendar hanging on a door in her hallway, the year was 2015. Her eyebrows shot up in shock, "Damn." She mumbled under her breath, fingers tracing the hot pink highlighter marks through the dates.  

Just as she was about to explore more of the apartment, a knock sounded. It was the playful kind that went along with a song or something but it quickly ended with the door jerking open. "So, did I see an angry bar patron leaving your apartment this morning?" Nathan Miller asked with a snort as he walked through the door. "Nice, really...although, she's not entirely my type..." He offered her a shy smile.

"Miller..." Clarke huffed but before she could go any farther, the boy's eyes widened. She furrowed her brows but he missed it due to the fact that he was wrapping her in his arms.

"Oh thank god, you're awake." He whispered in her ear, "I've been waiting for someone to call me Miller for three weeks now..."

She gripped him tightly, "What the hell is going on?"

 


	2. The New & Improved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke tries to find a balance in her new life.

"I, uh, I woke up about three weeks ago with a pretty bad hangover..." Miller explained slowly, watching her reaction the way he always did whenever they talked about serious situations. If they used a color chart, blue being moderate and red being absolutely terrible--this would be fucking out-of-this-world _rojo._ Clarke would eventually have to stop calling him a boy seeing as he was officially a man. They celebrated his 20th birthday almost two months ago with tons of manufactured alcohol from his lover-boy and some interesting stories about Miller, Monty, and Jasper from their youth (the joke being that Miller was now and old man, Clarke thought the frown on Bellamy's face every time they laughed about age was humorous--with him being the actual old man at 28.) "I live with Jasper and Bellamy, a really odd couple to be living with if I say so myself. Jasper likes to blow things up in the microwave, which is normal I suppose, but Bellamy sits around and reads history books. It's--"

 _Normal, too._ Clarke wanted to reply but she knew how Bellamy liked to keep his habitual reading private. Heaven forbid someone finds out that the cocksure leader actually has some type of book knowledge to base his impeccable war strategy off of--it was a pet peeve of Clarke's for a while but by now, she was used to his secretive nature. Over the years, she'd gotten to know her partner in a lot of ways. She _loves_ him even if she couldn't understand the boundaries of said love. "--kind of boring. The _you_ in this...whatever the hell this is...and _him_ are always at each other's throats. It's like when you two first met all over again, but more endearing in a way like you piss him off but he would take a bullet in the chest given the chance." Miller poked out his lip, "Octavia, _here_ , swears that you two are in love. There's a bet, kind of like back hom--uh, never mind."

She rolled her eyes, fully aware of the bet the idiots placed on the possibility of a relationship. In an attempt to change a subject from _that_ awkward topic, she moved on and tried to regain some of her famous professionalism. "So, who's present? Octavia, Bellamy and Jasper...is Monty?" She worried for her friend's mate, watching him shove his body into her white couch. His fingers played with the strands of her light pink blanket, picking at it with the mention of Monty's name.

"Yeah, hm, yeah he's here but he's different, you know? He's the guy I love but he's not _the guy_ I love." Miller shrugged it off as if the difference meant nothing but Clarke could tell it meant the world. They loved each other based off their lives in space, what they've endured on Earth. That's what made Miller, _Miller_ and Monty, _Monty_. They weren't the Jasper-coined couple, _Minty_ without their experiences. "But who am I to be angry that he hasn't been broken by the world yet?" Nate continued to explain about the others. Diligently, he listed their names as he recalled who he'd seen, "Monty, Murphy, Harper, Raven, Wick, Lincoln, and Monroe are definitely here. I've seen them and we hang out with Mont, Jas, Raven, Wick, Octavia, Lincoln and Bellamy on the regular. You've mentioned your mother once or twice but there's been no sign of Kane, Jaha, Jackson or Sinclair."

He was no longer playing with the throw blanket. Instead, he straightened his position. Clarke took note and corrected her tone to match his posture. He didn't want to get personal anymore or talk about Monty. "What about the other grounders? Indra, Lexa, and Nyko?"

Miller shrugged, "I might have seen Lexa but it was quick. I can't say it was her exactly." He informed her like he did just _yesterday_ about the kid who wasted their bullets with stupidity. He wrapped up with a, "God, this feels so good to talk about..." He let his face fall to his hands as he yawned. She didn't notice how exhausted he was until his little outburst. "If you're awake, that means the other's can wake up, too." His words were muffled by his hands but Clarke was used to deciphering the men's voices in their tired states. "I came here to force you to get ready for work after your crazy night."

"I don't even want to know what I did." Clarke snorted, "I already saw Miss Priss this morning and I really can't handle it if I'm a player in this life."

"Clarke," Miller snorted, "Last night Bellamy pissed you off so you stole his girl...at least, that's the story Jasper just texted me after you put on more clothes. I stayed late but you stayed later..."

She covered her mouth with her hands, only removing them to laugh. "Oh, no..." Of course she stole Bellamy's girl if he was being an ass. She'd truly embraced the whole duality of her sexuality lately. "How mad was he?"

"More shocked than anything. He definitely didn't think you had it in you." Miller sighed, "I'm a cop and you're an art consultant...I apparently give you a ride three times a week after I let Wick and Raven mess up your engine...but our arrangement will be over once they finish rebuilding it."

"You had to know better..."

"In my defense, Raven isn't a Zero G mechanic here and that slipped my mind. She's still amazing but her training isn't as superb...and Wick, he's smart but he's really just an asshole with a degree and an alcohol problem." Clarke let another laugh slip through her lips in the process of recognizing the familiar personality traits. "Not that he isn't seriously fun. Raven and him still hump like animals...utterly disgusting."

"I guess I should get ready for work." Clarke sighed, "Although I don't know a damn thing about art consulting."

**6:00 PM**

Clarke mastered the art of texting fairly quickly after a few suggested tips from Miller and her secretary--who definitely looked at her sideways. After she discovered the beauty of having an iPhone, her fingers hesitated over Bellamy's name. This was the longest she'd gone without talking to him in a long time and it was killing her--but what would they talk about? Rations? The people walking the streets seemed well-fed, almost disgustingly so. She heard her phone _beep_ repeatedly before she pulled it from her jacket pocket outside of the gallery. She was waiting for Miller to pick her up--wondering how the hell he learned to drive so quickly. "Hello?" She answered before she fully looked down at the name.

She regretted wearing a skirt because of the night air, but how could she not? She'd never had so many nice outfits. "Are you coming to the bar or not?" Harper giggled into the phone, "Because I have shots and a drunk asshole here." It was nice to hear her voice, nice to hear her laugh so freely.

There was a muffled " _Hey_!" from Murphy that broke off into a loud laugh. Harper continued to giggle and Clarke wondered if something was going on between them--not that it would last when they woke up. She saw Miller pulling up and decided to agree to meeting Harper and Murphy, merely because she had to see how "zombie-like" her people happened to be...or if anyone woke up when she did. Her phone beeped again, this time a text-message.

 **Octavia:** _How was your night? Heard you were taking Trey Songz titled as Mr. Steal-Ya-Girl._

Clarke snorted as she climbed into the passenger's side of Miller's car, "If I had known that Bellamy had dibs on that girl, I wouldn't have done her. Would it make him feel better if she completely regretted it the next morning?" Miller cracked a smirk at that and looked at her.

"Would it make Bellamy feel better that you managed to take a straight girl home right under his nose?" Miller laughed until he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.  He choked a little before he shook his head, "The worst part is...you could do it right now. Out of everyone, you seemed to have the firmest grip on your personality. It makes sense that you're the second to wake up."

He took a long breath.

"Hopefully, Monty will wake up soon."

Miller gave her a look, "And Bellamy...I know you're going crazy."

"I'm fine. At least he's alive..." Because the thought of living in a world where he couldn't remember the real her could satisfy her a lot more than him dying--than him being dead. She didn't want to live in a life without him. "I...if Bellamy died...this is a lot better than anything we've ever faced before. We have running water and soap and clean clothes." 

"But all of our memories...every reason we love those people...they don't exist right now." Miller searched her face and she could have sworn he was looking for a reason to pinpoint her emotions towards her people, and how much they extended towards a certain person. Nathan was always tricky like that. "It's lonely, Clarke...being in a room full of people that have never killed...or buried their friends. It's just lonely."

"Hey, they'll wake up." Clarke reached across the center console, taking his hand in hers. "They have to wake up--" Her phone beeped again, "--I have to text Octavia back."

"Yeah, she's still scary."

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially, Clarke has woken up in a parallel universe with full knowledge of Camp Jaha and her friends. Soon, it will be discovered--as Miller hinted--that the others haven't regained their memories yet and it's them against the new world. Miller has survived for three weeks, but can Clarke handle 2015?


End file.
